


miracles in the mortal city

by feeisamarshmallow



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Blackouts, Chanukah, Christmas, F/M, Introspection, Snowstorms, b99 secret santa 2020, holiday fic, themes of family and light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28019322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feeisamarshmallow/pseuds/feeisamarshmallow
Summary: A winter storm blacks out New York City and illuminates the things that really matter. Jake and Amy find their way to each other.
Relationships: Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago
Comments: 14
Kudos: 56
Collections: B99 Discord Secret Santa Event 2020





	miracles in the mortal city

**Author's Note:**

  * For [benslie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/benslie/gifts).



> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to [@benslie](https://benslie.tumblr.com/), this is your Secret Santa gift. I hope you enjoy :) 
> 
> This fic takes place during December 2022. Many thanks to @MediumSizedEvil for the quick beta!
> 
> Wishing lots of love and light for anyone who reads this. 2020 has been tough; I hope my little contribution to the world of fanfiction can make it a tiny bit brighter.

Heavy snowfall silences the city. Jake never realizes just how loud New York is until a snowstorm hits. The cars barely make a noise as their tires churn through unplowed streets. New Yorkers duck their heads into their jackets and scarves, more standoffish than usual. Jake sidesteps around an elderly woman slowly making her way down the sidewalk, stepping into a snowbank and flinching when a chunk of snow falls down the top of his boot. He's thankful his mom was able to babysit Mac and he didn't have to take his son out into this weather. Maybe it was a bad idea to try to squeeze in some last-minute shopping before what meteorologists are calling the storm of the decade, but in his defense it was his only day off before their upcoming celebrations of Chanukah and Christmas. The falling snow is giving everything a sense of urgency, or maybe it's just that Jake is anxious to make good holiday memories with his son. Better, at least, than the murky images he can conjure up of his dad drunk on Christmas day—before he left the family and ruined that holiday for Jake. 

It's only about 3pm, but it already feels like dusk. The stores along the street have turned their signs on, and the neon lights reflect off the snow and back onto the street. The wind has started to pick up and the snow is blowing in addition to falling. But Jake can see the subway entrance ahead of him. Only three stops and he's back home with his son and his wife, ready to ride out the worst of the storm. The bags balanced on his arm whip around in a particularly strong gust of wind. In them are gifts for Mac—blocks, board books, chocolate gelt—a testament to his and Amy's mixed holiday celebrations. Jake releases a breath he had been holding. At least with Mac's gifts bought he's able to let go of a small portion of his apprehension. Jake readjusts the bags in his arms as he ducks into the subway entrance, thinking about how he's determined to show Mac the best Jewish-Cuban-American Chanukah-and-Christmas ever. 

The subway tunnel has a thick layer of melting slush from hundreds of other similarly hurried shoppers. When the train arrives with a squeal, it's more full than Jake expected. Jake unzips his coat a little and takes the last seat next to a couple of teenagers. He's zoning out, staring aimlessly out the dark window of the subway, when suddenly the train lurches and then stops. The lights cut out, and Jake and the rest of the riders are plunged into darkness.

* * *

It takes a tense ten minutes after the electricity cuts out for the precinct's back-up generator to switch on. Amy's up in the fourth floor bullpen, filling out some forms for Terry. But she abandons the paperwork to help break up a fight in the holding cell when it's apparent everyone else has their hands full. She holds a flashlight between her teeth, restraining a young, drunk man and a cantankerous old guy with each hand. She's telling them to knock it off when the overhead fluorescent lights in the cell shudder to life. Across the precinct, Terry's phone rings.

"Detectives, listen up," Terry says once he ends his call. "Power's out across Brooklyn. Subways are stalled and riders are in the dark. We need all hands on deck for crowd control at the stations. Sergeant Santiago—organize your officers and we'll make a coordinated plan."

Amy fixes the two disorderly men with a stare until they sit down meekly on opposite sides of the cell, and then nods at Terry. She hopes Jake has made it home by now. She trusts him to handle himself if he's on the subway, but still the thought sticks in her mind. Amy and the rest of the detectives clomp down the stairs to the storage room where they keep the NYPD winter gear, with Amy peeling off at the first floor to address her officers.

She's not surprised by the sudden turn of events, but disappointed all the same. She only had an hour left of her shift. Now she's certain it will be a long, cold, and dark night. When she was younger, overtime never seemed to bother her. But ever since she had Mac, a little part of her brain is always counting down the minutes until she can see her son again. For the first time in her life, she's not quite doubting her career, but she's starting to feel a deep sense of frustration at the way it takes over every aspect of her life. Like right now, as she enters a whirlwind of radio dispatches and phone calls and emergency information and scheduling and directing officers.

When the commotion settles, Amy has made and executed a plan to deal with the sudden blackout. She leaves Officer Jennings in charge of the headquarters at the precinct, and jumps in a squad car to oversee the response at Atlantic Av Station, where hundreds of riders are stuck in still-dark subway cars. Usually her adrenaline kicks in during emergency situations, but as soon as Amy sits down in the passenger seat next to Terry, she almost starts crying. The snow is coming down heavy, and even though Terry flips their emergency lights on, they're still only able to move at a crawl. They pass a few cars stuck on the side of the road, their flashing four-ways reflecting red into the snow. It makes everything feel claustrophobic and cloying and Amy can feel the tears sitting in the back of her throat.

"Santiago, are you crying?" 

"No."

Terry lets her sit in silence for a few minutes.

"Maybe a little bit. I'm usually so good at organizing emergency responses. But today—I don't know. It sounds stupid but I miss Mac and I miss Jake and I'm just dreading the hours of overtime." She hiccoughs. "And the cold."

The last part of her statement makes Terry crack a smile.

"We all get overwhelmed, Santiago. Just take a minute and you'll be fine."

Amy tries to take a few deep breaths as Terry guides their car expertly through the snow.

"How do you do it?" she finally asks.

Terry glances over briefly at her from the driver's seat.

"Do what?"

"Be a parent and a cop at the same time. I've been back for over a year but I still don't know how to do it." She sniffs as wet, salty tears track their way down her face.

"Well first I had a breakdown," Terry says. And maybe it should have sounded flippant, but there's a seriousness to his words.

"Oh right."

"But then I let my love for my daughters push me to be a better, fairer cop."

Amy nods, and wipes tears off her cheeks with the back of a gloved hand.

Terry continues, "And I got serious about work-life balance. You want my real advice?"

She sniffs and nods again.

"Let Gary help you out even more and stop trying to handle everything yourself. He can handle it. And let yourself cry if you need to. You don't need to be a superwoman."

Logically Amy knew all that already. But hearing it from Terry soothes something inside her that she didn't know she needed it. They pull up to Atlantic Av Station where a crowd has gathered. People looking panicked and lost. Scared by the blackout and unable to find their way home. One man is shouting over the wind into his cellphone while his young child bawls, holding his hand. Amy takes a deep breath to clear her head, and although she's still dreading the overtime, she's ready to handle it.

* * *

Mac starts crying when the power goes out. Karen and Mac are in the middle of a Sesame Street episode, and one minute Elmo was addressing the screen, and the next it goes dark, static popping in the sudden lack of sound. Karen immediately flips on her phone flashlight. Then she reaches her arm over to wrap Mac in a hug, but he shrugs her off and grabs a pillow instead, and that stings.

"It's okay, the lights will come back on soon. Let me go look for more flashlights," Karen says to Mac.

Mac just keeps crying into his pillow. As Karen feels her way into Jake and Amy's kitchen, she lets out a sigh. When she learned she was going to be a grandma, she thought she was going to have a picture-perfect relationship with her grandchild. That maybe she didn't get everything right as a mother, but she could as a grandmother. But Mac is prickly and particular. He's a wonderfully intelligent and talkative child, but he is slow to warm up to people, and still struggles to adjust when his parents aren't home.

Karen looks all over the house, but she's unable to find any extra flashlights. It seems unlikely that Amy wouldn't have the house stocked with a winter emergency kit, but Karen figures she's just looking in all the wrong places. She thinks briefly about Amy and Jake, both out in this wild weather, and she has to banish the thought quickly before she worries too much. Instead she grabs one of Mac’s books and heads back to him.

When she comes back into the living room, Mac is self-soothing with his thumb stuck in his mouth and his other hand still gripped tight on the throw pillow.

"We only have my phone flashlight, so we'll have to hope it lasts all night. Do you want to read a book now instead?"

Mac thinks for a moment, and then without taking his thumb out of his mouth, Mac nods. Karen settles on the couch next to him and uses the flashlight to illuminate the storybook. She reads as the wind blows snow against the balcony door. By the end of the book, Mac has leaned against her side, his breath even and relaxed. Karen allows herself a small smile.

* * *

The subway is silent for a minute, before panicked chatter starts up. Jake keeps waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark, but it's pitch black and he can't see anything. Slowly, the riders start digging out their cellphones and turning on their flashlights.

Then the teen sitting next to Jake starts muttering under his breath: "We're gonna die. We're gonna die." He looks to be about fourteen or fifteen years old, with long shaggy brown hair and pale skin. His friend looks over at Jake, frozen and unsure. He looks even younger, with twists poking out of his winter hat.

"Hey, hey, you're not gonna die. You're gonna be fine." Jake gets up from his seat and crouches in front of the teen.

The teen makes hesitant eye contact with him, breathing erratically.

"I'm Jake, what's your name?"

"Peter."

"Okay Peter, I want you take some deep breaths, can you do that? We're going to get out of here just fine, I promise."

Peter nods, and slowly matches Jake's breaths.

When he finally calms down, Jake stands up and is surprised to be met with scattered applause. He's a bit shaky, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't freaked out as well, not to mention worried about Mac and Amy. But suddenly all of the passengers are looking at him with some sort of authority, all harshly illuminated in blue cellphone flashlights, their faces creased in concern.

"That goes for everyone. We're all going to be okay. Is everyone okay? No one is injured or sick?" Jake addresses the crowd. They murmur back in agreement. "We should conserve our cellphone batteries though," he continues, "so between you and your neighbour, one of you turn your cellphone off."

The riders all nod, and start to confer with one another. Jake waits for them to quiet down again when he speaks. An idea has just popped into his head.

"Now that we're okay, we just have to wait for the power to come back on, which means we need some entertainment." Jake is getting excited despite himself. "Who's feeling musical?"

A few minutes later, an older couple is leading the riders in a Frosty the Snowman sing-along. A little girl to Jake's left is smiling and enthusiastically thumping her hands on her legs. They don't even sound half-bad, echoing off the steel inside of the subway car.

The power comes back on as suddenly as it cut out. But the lights are dimmer than usual, and Jake's sure it's only an emergency generator. Still, the riders cheer and hug one another, no longer strangers. It's such an opposition to the usual New York subway attitude that it barely feels like the same city.

After another ten minutes, their train lurches into a slow forward motion, and then they’re pulling into the station, illuminated only by orange emergency lights. Jake's the last to leave the car, helping an elderly lady off the train. It's not until the train closes its doors that Jake realizes he's left his shopping bags underneath his seat.

It's enough to make tears prickle at the edge of his eyes as he rounds the corner to the stairs. There's an NYPD officer directing traffic at the bottom of the stairs and she happens to make eye contact directly with Jake. It's Amy.

And maybe it's unprofessional, but Jake runs to her, arms outstretched and wraps her in a hug. They stay that way for a few minutes, layers of clothes between them and Amy's cold wet hair pressed up against Jake's cheek. They move apart, before Jake leans in again and plants a quick kiss on her lips.

"You're so warm," she whispers.

"I love you," he whispers back.

* * *

"It was so cool of Terry to let you leave early with me," Jake says as he wraps himself in a blanket and sits next to Amy on their couch.

"Terry's the best."

"I'm glad you're home safe," Karen says.

They're sitting on the couch, looking at the swirling storm outside the window, with Karen's phone flashlight still going strong. Mac is curled up on Amy's lap, asleep, as Jake sets out a picnic of cold food on the coffee table in front of them.

Amy meets Jake's eye as she grabs a handful of crackers from the table. She's smiling wide, glowing almost, although it could just be the flashlight.

"Why are you smiling?" Jake laughs.

"Is it weird that I'm happy?" Amy says.

"Nah. I'm happy too. Don't ask me why, but somehow this is perfect." Jake wraps his arms around Amy on one side, and Karen on the other.

All of it is perfect. The dark Christmas tree. The crackers and cheese dinner. Jake swigging orange soda right out of the bottle. Karen humming absentmindedly under her breath. Mac waking up fussing by Amy's side. Jake's abandoned shopping. And Karen's limitless phone battery.

The snow keeps falling outside.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think! Or come say hi on tumblr [@feeisamarshmallow.](https://feeisamarshmallow.tumblr.com/)


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